The Heart of the Mountain
by NushiKasai
Summary: Cursed to suffer by Sauron, the immortal daughter of Nienna- the Lady of Mercy- tore out her own diamond heart and dropped it into an active volcano. It was lost for almost an age; until the volcano slept, dwarves inhabited the mountain and her heart was found by a miner and lost once more. Joining a band of dwarves, Aina searches for her heart...which is now named the Arkenstone.


**Saw the hobbit movie, loved it, needed to write this :) Please enjoy and drop a review if you have the time.**

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_The time of peace was ending._

_The seed of evil had now borne the fruit of chaos and destruction for all. Life upon Middle Earth was corrupted. The minds of the most virtuous of souls became twisted amongst their lust for the power promised within the whispered lies of the Nameless. _

_Our only hope lay with the Istari, the wizards of our realm, as it was only they who could assemble a force powerful enough to conquer the darkness of the world. They were sent to the other lands of Arda for this purpose, and it was they who were charged with peace._

_But I wept for their cause; I felt the sorrow that would come to pass, and the suffering that would take hold deep within the races of Men, Elves and Dwarves. I wept for their harm._

_Five of the Istari entered Middle Earth in the war against the Nameless and upon their arrival, a rain fell upon Arda like never before- a rain born from my compassion so that every realm would feel my pain._

_For it was not only the Istari who had travelled to aid the chaos-inflicted land; my fallen tears- born of a Ainu's sorrow- was my gift to Middle Earth. _

The Lament of Nienna

* * *

The sun is beginning to set behind the towering mountains as I arrive at the Elven city of Rivendell. With my basket secured snugly against the crook of my neck and my shoulder and the straps of my travelling pack firmly in place- for I must make an impression of constant neatness in my line of work- I take my final steps on this particular journey.

I sigh at the sight of the serene place and then my expression forms into a grimace of weariness. Not to say that Rivendell wasn't homely enough- it was certainly a place I would consider living in. It was just that the journey back home would take a bit longer than I would fancy- the fair is beginning tomorrow and I'll miss it because of this long delivery.

I'd been here before, so I knew the time it would take to return. The elves were actually quite used to my presence now after a few years of back and forth deliveries- though it had taken quite a while for the politely guarded but still suspicious stares to cease following me throughout the Elven city.

I would also go to say that they became much more welcoming to me after they'd tasted some of our free wares. I don't care too much for bragging, but Bodo's apple-pie was to die for. My deliveries for Smallburrow's Stash took me to various places- as Bodo's shop is quite famous for the food and convenient system of delivery- but Rivendell is the farthest I've ever been.

The elves didn't call for the delivery, however. No, they're far too independent for that! Rather, I am about to drop off an order of basic travelling supplies to an inexperienced adventurer who'd left some very important items back home. Occasionally, I let the odd elf taste some of Bodo's wares, and some do purchase a few sweets if they're expecting foreign guests, but my journeys to Rivendell are not as common as I would prefer.

There is a certain joy that comes from wandering the serene countryside and gazing at the towering mountains. I've memorized the safest paths to far-away towns that I have to visit, but if there are the slightest rumours of brewing trouble, Bodo insists that I take Ponto with me for protection.

But there has been no trouble on this journey, and the weather has been very favourable. The sun has begun to shine distinctly in the east and wind was blowing a gentle breeze that makes my curls shift in their position of being held in a ponytail. I frown and make a note to keep a watch on that- my black hair is insufferable at the best of times, so diligence is required to maintain any basic hairstyle.

I huff once and set off; clambering down the stairs that lead to the shining city. I will drop off my delivery and be off on the morrow.

Once I arrive back in Bree, my uncle will give me some respite time, but I will soon be given another location that has an order waiting. Admittedly, my job does give me some disapproving gazes in my town, but that is only because my mother was quite the respectable lady before she passed and I am expected to be the same. My father, had he been around me during my childhood, might have managed to tame me down to Bree-standards, but he is off in a kingdom that I have never travelled to. He has visited on the odd occasion, but those moments are not common.

I scowl up at the mountains nearby; the towering monstrosities that hold unseen dangers. Many a weary traveller has ventured up into their depths and has not returned. I have heard tell of many beasts that wander that area; giant wolf-like creatures that attack on sight, and parties of orcs that ambush an adventurer while they sleep. Such as it is, Bodo has forbidden me from going further than Rivendell- simply because of the dangers the mountains could hold.

If only they didn't exist…then, I would be able to travel to see my father in his home of a far-off kingdom. He's a politician of sorts and represents Bree-land in the court of our rulers. He would have taken me with him as a babe, but my uncle persuaded him that a king's court was no place for a child.

"And what has Bodo come to offer us today, Miss Aina of Sandydowns?" The smooth voice of en elf snaps me out of my thoughts, and I turn to see the tall, lean figure of Tathar standing by the entrance to the city, a familiar but still appropriately distant twitch of his lips as he watches me approach.

"Not Sandydowns anymore," I correct, recalling the shop I'd lived in recently out in the countryside, "I moved back last month- I missed home. Now, I am back to plain, old 'Aina of Bree.'"

The ever-uptight but still surprisingly welcoming elf gave a slight nod and inclined his head in a polite way to me.

"Well then, Miss Aina of Bree," he replied smoothly, "We welcome you back to Rivendell. Do you require assistance?"  
I frown and hurriedly retrieve my order from my large basket. I scrutinise my uncle's messy handwriting for a moment and then grasp onto the words. First thing's first, I had to find the direct location of my purchaser. I undoubtedly looked ridiculous for a moment; a small young lady with a giant pack on her shoulders and a tiny basket in the crook of her elbow glaring at a yellowed piece of paper.

Finally, I grasped onto the name of the one who needed his order delivered to him. With a triumphant smile on my face, I turned back to my patiently waiting company.

"Tathar, would you happen to know where a Mr Bilbo Baggins currently is?"

* * *

The elven attendant opens the doors for me, and I blush slightly at the graciousness I am being shown. It always happens when I visit the city, but I never manage to get used to it.

I walk forward and suddenly freeze as I notice the company I have just wandered into. A large of group of armoured dwarves and a small creature that- after a moment- I realise is a hobbit are consuming what appears to be an average dinner for an army. My eyes immediately widen, and I am about to go running back and call for the elven attendant for assistance, but I notice that I have already been spotted.

I stiffen and awkwardly bow my head in a gesture of polite respect. The group have weapons that can cause some serious damage and there is a strong level of distrust in their gaze. They are all staring at me expectantly- they obviously have noticed that I am not an elf and therefore must have some different business with them.

"Uh, hello!" I plaster a smile onto my face and raise a shaky hand. To say that I am overwhelmed is quite an understatement. "I work for Smallburrow's Stash in Bree and I was sent here with a delivery."

The hobbit, who was sitting near the balcony, stands up with a spark of recognition lighting up his face and quickly retrieves his bag beside him. Rummaging around in it for a second, he pulls out a sack of money and approaches me.

"Ah, yes; Gandalf said that you'd be here," he replies with a polite return nod of his head. He pulls out some gold and hands it to me. "There you go."

"Delivery?" One of the dwarves with strange, braids that stick out in opposite ends speaks to Bilbo. "What did you get?"

"Hm? Oh, uh, just the usual, Bofur. Enough to keep me going through the rest of our journey," the hobbit replies amiably, and I carefully untie my pack and begin unloading his ordered supplies. As I do so, I raise my gaze to see Mr Baggins turning to me with a frown on his face. "I've seen you before…are you the lady who works at Longo's shop in Sandydowns?"

I wince at the mention of the man who I'd worked for. He'd seemed nice enough, but he'd been a little too keen on touching me.

"Yes," I answer to the Halfling before me, "Well, I used to."

The hobbit's eyes widen and immediately drops to his knees to gaze at what he'd purchased. I see an expression of delight cross his face as he spots the apple-pie that I'd made and delivered to him, and he hurriedly picks it up. Standing, he turns to the company of dwarves.

"This, my dwarf-fellows, is the finest apple pie that you will ever find west of Rivendell," he announces with a grin. I am startled as the dwarves become focused on the object in his hand; all of them wear the faces of starved men when-judging by feast they've obviously just consumed-this is clearly not the case.

"My uncle is a cook of more skill than I could ever hope for," I humbly interrupt them, unpacking the last item and finally standing up. "Forgive me, but…could I ask why you require so many supplies?"  
I spoke in a casual tone, but the entire company goes silent, and I realise that I've probably said something that I shouldn't have. Even Bilbo, who was pleasant, has now withdrawn. I attempt to hide my hurt feelings of rejection- I understand that everyone has their own business and they have the right to privacy- but in Bree, things are just so…well-known. People have their secrets, but it's such a small town that we know quite a lot about each other. I guess that dwarves like to keep their secrets much closer to their chests.

Which I…totally…understand.

"We're a travelling band," Bilbo bursts out, a flustered look on his face, "We perform…music."  
My brow furrows against my will, for they would make a very conspicuous travelling band and I would surely have heard of them on my journeys but I have not. Also, whatever hobbit that has managed to stray into Bree has always scrunched their noses up at our bawdy tavern songs, so either Mr Baggins is just throwing out a lie to sate me, or he is a very unusual hobbit indeed.

"Please forgive me for saying so," I begin, and immediately regret my choice of words. People tend to realise that these words precede offense, "But dwarves don't strike me as the most musical of people."  
"That's far from true!" I'm startled as I see a younger dwarf stand with a very 'improvised' expression on his face, and I blink in confusion as I scrutinise him. He was certainly not like any other dwarves I've seen. He has a very boyish look about him; his tanned skin is still remarkably smooth, and he doesn't boast as full a beard as the others in his company. "We love music!"

He gestures to his friends and they finally take up his act. The dwarf that Bilbo had called 'Bofur' stands and retrieves his instrument from his pocket, and the others begins a merry humming tune that is reverberated around the room. Bofur takes up his instrument and begins to whistle along as the young, boyish dwarf opens his mouth to sing.

_We'll drink a stock of ale dry, _

_Enough to make a grown man cry, _

_Butter the bread and serve a horse_

_Prepare a dinner for a dwarf!_

"Okay, okay!" I raise my hands gently-for I do not wish to offend them- and step forward to interrupt them. "I understand that you are very musical, but forgive me if I say that you do not appear to be a musical _band_."

The company titters nervously, and I realise that perhaps I may be correct in calling out their lie-even though I later recognise that this matter is no business of mine. Blind curiosity has always been one of my weak points.

Bilbo, who stood motionless during the dwarves' jig- for I do not believe he quite knew what to do- now places his hands on hips and softly rolls his shoulders as he straightens his back.

"Well, we certainly _are _a -uh- _very_ experienced music band," the hobbit firmly tells, all of the company nodding their heads vigorously in agreement with him. "We've gained quite a bit of popularity west of Rivendell."

I am about to reply back- with my accursedly sassy mouth- and tell him that I travel all around the area that he has mentioned, and I have never heard tell of a single music band that consists of dwarves and a hobbit- and I can safely assume that amongst the proper countryfolk west of Rivendell, such a band would warrant high amounts of interest. However, I simply bite my lip- for sense is now prevailing in my senses- and I realise that pursuing the topic any further will be to pry into matters of no concern to me.

"I suppose that I'll just have to catch one of your performances at Bree," I reply with a false, cheerful tone to my voice as I gather the straps to my bag and sling it over my shoulder. Whilst I have never been the best at observing people, I manage to catch the expression of relief that passes over my company, and resist the urge to roll my eyes and sarcastically yell at them to make their secret-keeping anymore obvious. For once, my fiery mouth decides to remain closed- for which I am thankful. I nod politely to the group and bob slightly. "Good day to you, Mr Bilbo and dwarves. Enjoy your purchases and don't hesitate to call upon Smallburrow's Stash if you need any assistance. Thank you."

They all return a nod and a civil comment here or there, and I whirl around- my green travel cloak swirling with perhaps a questionable amount of intended grandeur. I smile and gesture to the elf who waits at the door to escort me back to the gates- or kitchens, if I so desire.

Before we can so much as take a step out into the corridor, we are promptly pushed back by the arriving dwarf- who accidently stumbles into our bodies. The strength of the impact is so great that I back peddle a few steps before regaining composure, but I see that my accompanying elf is able to stomach the force with more ease than I.

I am about to glare accusatorily at the rude person, but I am halted by the barely-concealed glare already being directed at me. I now gaze upon a dwarf that I only just defeat in height- which is a rare thing, as I am considered quite small for a human. Both his hair and beard are the darkest shade of ebony, but small streaks of grey can be found if one searches for them. His eyes are furrowed with suspicion and I notice his hand twitch for his sheathed sword in a defensive reaction to our presence.

"Who are you?" He asks in a deep, but commanding voice, offering no apologies for throwing us back a few paces.

My loud-mouth yearns to reply, but I hush it as I seek no quarrel- especially from dwarves, as they have strong family ties and I do see the odd dwarf frequent Bodo's shop in Bree. I would not wish for an argument with them, and so I reply smoothly.

"I am Aina, daughter of Syllyn of Bree," I introduce myself with another polite inclination of my head, though the harsh stare of my company does not soften. "I am here to deliver goods to Master Baggins."

"Master Baggins?" He repeats and turns his glare onto the hobbit, who has been watching the exchange with an almost anxious expression on his face. "We have more than enough to supply us for the journey," the dwarf informs me, and I blink suddenly at the mention of 'journey.'

"Just let him have it, uncle," says the two dwarves lounging against the elven wall with a pipe in their hands. The one on the left flashes a wink at me before raising his pipe in agreement with the darker haired dwarf. "It's just supplies."

"And who will be carrying them?" The stern dwarf asks with a meaningful gesture to the rest of the company. They fall silent and swallow at the new reality facing them. "The Halfling has not the strength to bear all of these supplies, so we all must be willing to carry extra weight."

My mind whirrs as I realise that they must be preparing for a long journey- and one that I can safely assume is not for musical purposes.

"Thorin's right, lad," a very mercenary-like dwarf- tattoos adorned the bare skin atop of his head like writing on a page- turns to the hobbit and claps him on the back in a sign of goodwill. "You will no be able to lift all of this."

The hobbit slides his fingers nervously up and down the hem of his scarlet coat, jittery in his movements, and I notice that his knuckles are paling as though they are clenched tightly.

"I could carry it!" He insists, but I immediately catch onto the doubting stares directed towards him, and I know that he will not be taken seriously.

"You know as well I that you could not carry what you have purchased," the dark-bearded dwarf, Thorin gruffly replies to the Halfling, stepping forward and gesturing that it is time to pack away the briefly purchased- and unused- supplies.

Bilbo casts a longing gaze down upon the apple-pie at his feet, and I remember from my time working in Sandydowns that hobbits have a distinct affection for food- and like to have many rounds of dinner.

Suddenly, I feel very indignant for him, as he was lovely earlier with his compliments to my cooking- despite not actually tasting the apple-pie I supplied him with, though he did say that he had purchased some during my short stay in the lands west of Bree- and I feel it necessary to show my gratitude.

"On this journey of yours, can you not take ponies to carry extra items?" I interject loudly, but my sassy mouth takes over slightly and adds a defiant edge to my voice, and unspoken insults that my uncle would grow pale at now rest on the tip of my tongue eagerly. The imposing figure of the dark-bearded dwarf stiffens and I see his eyes narrow slightly and so I hurry on with a softer tone. "Surely, you will not make me return empty-handed from an important job- my employer may not see the worth in keeping me around anymore."

I neglect to mention that my employer is my uncle, and he would never fire me, for he would run the risk of my father's wrath- though far away, he still held power and influence in Bree. However, my manipulative words work to my purpose, as I see the dwarf's expression lower to one of well-concealed guilt. That is soon wiped away, and he dismissively kneels next to the supplies and begins to pack them into a pile, indicating to the others brusquely for assistance.

"We cannot take ponies where we are going," he gruffly replies, though it sounds more like an announcement to the group, who had brightened considerably at the thought of being able to take such a large amount of food with them. "The chance of them falling or alike is too high to risk. The elves have given us…_hospitable_ services and it is not among the dwarven way to repay an open home with rudeness."

The company nods in agreement, albeit reluctantly- their expressions sinking back to their normal state. I however am whirling at the dwarf's words, quickly running over the nearby locations where one could have ponies fall to their death. Nowhere that I have been really runs that risk- sure, there are high passages around Rivendell especially, but the roads are large enough to accommodate horses and men alike.

"The chance of them falling?" I repeat in confusion at them, casting an unsure glance at my silent elf companion, but I receive no answer from him. Instead, I return my eyes to the dwarves and hobbit, who seem to have forgotten my presence as they forlornly watch the food get stacked into piles in preparation for packing. "What do you mean by…"

I trail off as I finally realise my foolishness. This black-haired dwarf said that they were going on a journey where there was a high chance of falling. There is nowhere in my respectable repertoire of visited locations that I can think of that has such a threat, but now I finally figure that they must be going to a place where I have not been. And as Mr Baggins thought that his company would need so much food, the journey will be long, laborious, as though the terrain in which they'll be travelling is wild and untamed.

There is only one nearby location that I can think of, and the very thought of travelling through it sends my eyes wide with hope. I step forward and face as many dwarves as I can whilst shivers of excitement run unashamedly down my spine.

"You're going through the mountain," I say in hushed tones, as thoughts of seeing my father cloud my mind in my naïve foolishness. The expressions of fright- as I believe that they do not wish for someone like me to know too much about their journey- only confirm my statement. My lips twitch and I turn specifically to the figure of the imposing, black-haired dwarf- as he seems to be somewhat in charge.

"Please, take me with you!"

* * *

"_I knew their suffering…that which was caused by the greed of all who live in this world."_

The Lady of Mercy, TA 1000:** _The Annals of the Third Age_**

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**Thank you so much for reading the first chapter :) Firstly, if Aina comes across as a Mary Sue, please tell me and I will try to fix that in the next chapter. Please give me feedback and tell me what you thought- reviews are loved and motivate me!**


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